


Pressure Sensitivity

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [113]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Body Modification, F/M, Humor, Surgery, doctor Meg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6482374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Honestly, Meg’s not even sure why they’re called ‘underground’ surgeons. Sure, she’s worked in a few subterranean lairs when she’s needed to hunker down. But for the most part she hops from ship to ship with her supplies and works where she can find it. People who know her, know where to find her. It’s easier to keep off the intergalactic authority’s radar when she doesn’t have a physical address.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure Sensitivity

Tucking the little flap of tan skin back down and tracing her cauterizing laser over it, Meg finishes with a flourish. There’s barely a line of red irritation where she’s completed her work, the implant in his forearm just a small raised patch you wouldn’t know to look for.

“There you go Deany-bean, give it a whirl.”

Hopping off the steel table, Dean presses the pad of his thumb to the subcutaneous implant and in the blink of an eye he disappears.

“Awesome.”

Meg beams, “Good as new.”

Thumbing the implant again, Dean appears before her, scruffy jaw and thin worn utilitarian clothes in drab gray. He’s a head hunter, with his brother, and both of them have the predator cloaking implants that Meg’s father had pioneered.

Well, some would say that he ripped them off. But just because he was able to figure out how they worked from researching the commercially available models, make improvements to them, and offer them on the Black Market for an affordable price – well Meg wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘ripped off’.

Azazel had been a brilliant underground surgeon.

Honestly, Meg’s not even sure why they’re called ‘underground’ surgeons. Sure, she’s worked in a few subterranean lairs when she’s needed to hunker down. But for the most part she hops from ship to ship with her supplies and works where she can find it. People who know her, know where to find her. It’s easier to keep off the intergalactic authority’s radar when she doesn’t have a physical address.

Dean flicks his implant on and off again a few times, giggling like a child, while Meg finds her cred swiper. He’s got a few chips in his pocket that he pulls out and taps on the screen. There’s still dried blood caked in a couple of them.

Well, it’s not like you pay for black market goods with your own traceable creds.

“How’s Sam’s implant holding up?” Meg asks disinterestedly.

Dean waves her off, “He’s fine, these things work like a dream, I just got mine crushed on the last hunt, damn near thought I’d loose the arm but it was only a couple of broken bones and a smashed implant.”

Gathering her dirty tools and laying them out to wave her sanitization wand over them, Meg told him, “You boys take care then. Let me know when I can do the musculoskeletal fortifications for you.”

“Oh we’re gonna need to collect a lot more cred for that, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

Meg nods as he swipes the door open, and Kevin’s already waiting outside. She actually has a few appointments lined up today, like a goddam reputable doctor. Working on a large travel ship for a stretch of time’ll do that. Meg should probably bounce soon, but the work’s been good and everyone seems cool with the less than legal state of things.

“Hey short stack, what’re you in for today?”

Kevin sits on the table and sighs, “I’m not that short. I’m as tall as you.”

“Yeah, well, almost everyone is taller than me, so that makes you short, short stack.”

Kevin just scowls at her and rolls up the sleeves of his school-standard uniform shirt. Rolling his wrists and balling then unclenching his hands, he tells her, “The agility has really improved, but I’m having some problems with pressure sensitivity.”

“Okay,” Meg steps closer, nudging between his thighs and taking his hands in hers.

The blush that blooms on his cheeks is just adorable. Innocent, shy little Kevin. Honestly, she didn’t think he had it in him the first time he came to her wanting mods on his hands to improve his abilities for an instrument he plays. A jello or something like that. Something from earth. The kid was riding on funding based on his promising musical talents at one of the most prestigious skill based academies that floated in the Andromeda galaxy. And he had wanted a black market body mod boost to help keep ahead of the curve.

With initiative like that, kid was gonna go places in the universe.

Taking one small hand between her own, Meg kneads her thumbs into his palm and drags outward, pinching each of his fingers between her own and feeling along the length of it. The wire thin flexi-fibers that she grafted from the tips of his fingers up along his shoulders to his spine react under her touch. His hands twitches, fingers curling. But when she tells him, “Push back”, and presses at the pads of his fingers, there isn’t as much strength behind it as there should be.

“Mind if I open you up and make a few tweaks today?”

Meg looks up from his hand and finds his gaze fixed on the stretch of her black tank top over her boobs. He practically jumps out of his skin when she talks and shakes his head, “Uh, no, that’s fine. I’m not doing anything wrong with them am I? I didn’t think there was any maintenance for them but I have been vigilant with my stretching exercises.”

Snorting, Meg moves away to pick out the tools she needs, “Nah, there’s no maintenance, but mods like this can be really picky and it usually takes a few tweaks to get them calibrated right to the individual.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Lay down.”

Swinging his feet up onto the hard table, Kevin stretches out, head lolled to the side to watch her as Meg moves around. Rolling a tray over next to the table, Meg taps her booted feet and pulls one of Kevin’s arms down, pressing her fingers into the skin from his shoulder down to his wrist.

“I’m gonna give you an anesthetic, I’ll need to open up your hand and some of the forearm, I don’t think I’ll need to work above the elbow.”

Kevin nods and blinks, watching her with wide eyes. Most people look away or squeeze their eyes shut, but he’s got a morbid fascination for watching and asking her questions. Tying a tourniquet over his bicep, Meg unwraps a sterile syringe and fills it, finding a vein and injecting it, kneading the muscle down Kevin’s arm with strokes towards his hand. She gives it a minute to work before taking off the tourniquet.

“How much is this going to cost?” Kevin asks.

Meg thinks it’s a little late to ask after prices. But it doesn’t matter anyway. “No charge, making sure the mod’s calibrated right is included in the initial price.”

“Oh.”

Meg hums and picks up her laser knife, it’s precise and responsive and best of all it cauterizes the skin when she cuts in. Slicing from mid forearm down to his palm, Meg peels back a flap of skin. Ah, nothing like the smell of burning flesh and the sight of layers of thick red muscle, white bone, the metallic silver wisps of her implanted mod fibers carefully threaded through. Hm. It looks a little loose. That’s probably the problem.

Using delicate thin forceps to manipulate the fiber, Meg pulls it tighter here, winds it closer there, makes sure that it’s snug and gives Kevin’s fingers a few squeezes. Curling his fingers then extending them, she watches the play of her thread among his muscles and tendons. Eh. It looks better. Closing his skin, she’s careful to pull it all back together neatly before cauterizing it so the irritation will fade without leaving a scar.

Patting his bicep, Meg grins at him. “One down, one to go.”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah I think the shot you gave me was a little strong. Wheeeee… the lights are so blinky.”

Meg snaps her fingers in front of his face, “Hey, follow my finger.”

His pupils are dilated but he’s mostly capable of focusing. He’ll be fine. Preparing a shot for the other arm, Meg goes easy on the dosage. She’s not really an anesthesiologist. All her training and much of her early career was done under her father’s tutelage on their home plant, among other demons. And demons don’t need anesthesia or pain medication. She’s tried to get better at it since they were chased off their planet and had to broaden their client base. Humans are just so fragile. They’re probably the weakest creatures she’s met. And that includes fairies. You’d think fairies would be easily breakable with their spindly limbs and gossamer wings, but those little shits are tough as obsidian.

“You’re not doing anything for the rest of the day, are you Kev?”

“Nope.” Kevin pops his ‘p’, watches her slice open his arm, keeps popping additional ‘p’s that aren’t connected to anything.

Meg rolls her eyes and goes back to sprucing up his mod.

Once she’s done with her work, Meg leaves him sprawled on the table. She’s got someone else to see later that night, but it’s not for a couple hours. Sanitizing her equipment, she gets things tucked away into her travel bag. Kevin’s still blinking up at the ceiling light and marveling at his hands, holding them in front of his face and wiggling his fingers.

“All right kiddo, time’s up.”

Sitting up with a little sway, Kevin swings his legs over the side of the table. “M’not a kid.”

“You’re centuries younger than me.”

Kevin’s mouth falls open, “How old are you?”

Meg clucks her tongue, “You in the habit of asking ladies their age?”

“Sorry. I’ve never met a demon before. You’re not really what I expected.”

“Is that so?” Meg arches an eyebrow at him, “What, were you expecting more fire and brimstone?”

“I didn’t think demons were so hot.”

Meg laughs at his obvious mortification when he realizes he’s said that out loud. Kevin’s being a lot more vocal this time around than his first visit. Maybe the shock and awe of it’s worn off, maybe he’s not so nervous about purchasing illegal body mods.

“Why don’t you find somewhere to let the drugs wear off and come find me when you’re sober.”

Kevin blinks wide eyes at her, “Why… why would you want me to come find you.”

Stepping close to him again, picking up one of his hands and kneading her thumbs into the palm, fingers still too numb to do much without external manipulation, Meg eyes him up and down. He’s a tough kid. Not what you expect. Still looks like a sweet virgin treat she’d just love to devour. Purity is practically a delicacy to demons.

“Well,” She all but purrs, “I should check on the pressure sensitivity of your fingers.”


End file.
